My Dead Phone.

Yes, my phone is dead. There is no way around it.

On Friday night, I awoke at 4:30am in a panic. I heard someone knocking on my door, which never ends to scare me, even during the daylight hours. First, I am afraid of the dark and second I live alone meaning that any knocking which happens involves me getting enough courage to get out of my bed and ask who it is. Thankfully my friend Aiesha started yelling "Cara, Cara, nkr nkr, tga Aiesha." (Cara, Cara, get up, get up, its Aiesha). So I went to the door and her and two other ladies were standing there in the dark asking me about the power.

My electricity has been going off and on for the past few days and it just so happened that the women woke up early to cook bread but the power was out.

After they asked a bunch of questions and I finally shooed them away, I went to the bathroom. After finishing my business, my source of light in my dark house, my phone, fell into the bit-lma (bathroom) hole. Since I didn't want to stick my hand into a bit-lma hole blindly, I went and found a candle but in the meantime my phone has completely submersed itself in the hole that was full of pee and water and God only knows what else.

Remembering the tricks I learned after dropping my phone in many pitchers/ glasses of beer, I immediately took my phone and put it in a bag of rice, hoping to suck the moisture out but after two days in the bag, I had to pronounce the phone dead.



The Moroccan women were not content with my American methods so they proceeded to rub hair product on it, throw it around and spray it with something, all with no luck. After I had stumped the women, we took the phone to the town phone "repair" man, but he was stumped to. At this point, we all agreed that my phone was lost.

This phone has been quite a trooper for me, surviving many falls and brushes with death in Morocco as well as putting up with my Mom for the few years before I got it. I am sad to see it go.

Now that I am phone-less, people have started to take pity on me. I am currently in the process of negotiating a new phone in exchange for some old clothes with a women in the village. I am hoping that comes through, at least for the time being.

For now, I sit in my house with no internet and no phone, hopeful that we don't have to consolidate with all of the uproar in Egypt since I will have no way of knowing! Thankfully, Sami and Dave have offered to contact my counterpart to relay the message to me and I can see it now.

Knock on the door. Some Moroccan child outside.
"Cara, someone called and said you have to leave"
"Where do I have to go?"
"I don't know, maybe Agadir or Tiznit."
Then my immediate reaction into panic.

Lets just hope this doesn't happen.

I am hoping to get a phone soon but if it doesn't happen, know friends that my lack of response is not due to my ignoring you, its due to the fact that the Moroccan toilet ate my phone.

Total score:
Moroccan toilet: 1
Cara's phone: 0